Gifts of Creation
by The Sacred Feminine
Summary: Idea taken from Kamerreon's "If Wishes were Thestrals". Have a one-shot- request? Let me know and I'll write it. Warnings for anything you might find offensive.
1. His Dying Touch

**Author's Note: How many of you were expecting to hear from me ever again? I bet I've lots everyone who ever followed me… Lol. Good times.**

**Anyway. Having gone through my first year of college, I feel as though I need to commemorate it with a little story cooked up from nothing but a title. I'm going to start writing and we'll see where it goes. I make no promises based on content, plot or characters. If they hop in on a bunny they'll end up in here.**

**Warnings: This will be a final battle dealie. People will die, there will be curses and blood and pain. Again, I make no promises to content.**

His Dying Touch

Harry gasped and sat up quickly. He clutched at his chest, right over his heart. His lungs were burning, begging for air. Tears of shock poured down his cheeks.

As he regained his breath, he thought back to his dream. There had been bubbles, lots of him. And he'd been drowning, arms reaching for the surface of whatever body of water he'd been dying in. The sun streamed in, breaking up the wall of blue water and white bubbles with rays of green light. The beauty didn't stop the fear, though. His arms still reached up, fingers flexing; trying to grasp and something – _anything_ – to get him out of his watery grave. As everything blurred together, as his body relaxed, succumbing to the oxygen deprivation, he'd woken up.

He breathed deeply, savouring the feeling of his lungs expanding. He opened the drapes on his bed and looked around the dorm room. The vibe felt different. Everyone was sleeping but he could taste the tension in the room.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he put his head in his hands. "I need to get out of here…" He muttered. He stood on shaky legs and cast around the room for his shirt and pants. After searching under his bed – and all the others – and in his trunk he stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips. Finally he sighed.

_New clothes it is,_ he thought, pulling his Gryffindor sweater over his head. He began to unbutton his pants then paused. He looked down at the grey trousers he was wearing and then over to the sweater he'd thrown on his bed. After a moment he chuckled to himself and shook his head.

He left the dorm five minutes later, still dressed in the clothes he'd worn, and apparently slept in, the day before. His trainers squeaked lightly as he walked through the empty corridors. Frustrated, he started jogging, which made it worse. Growling, he started sprinting, which made it, again, worse. Finally fed up, he took off his trainers and his socks and stashed them behind a suit of armour just off the entrance hall. Unsure of why he was suddenly so frustrated, he jogged outside, heading straight to the quidditch pitch.

The grass was cold, the dew numbing his feet instantly. He barely spared a thought to the fact that it was the middle of July and, therefore, should not be cold. His breath came out in crisp white puffs as he sprinted around the large field. An hour later his face, his fingers and his ears got painfully cold, forcing him to stop. He walked slowly back to the school with his hands in his arm pits, trying to warm them up.

When he walked back into the school, he realised he was crying again. He felt like an idiot, crying for no reason.

"Crying again, Potter?" a soft voice asked him as he put his shoes back on. From his seat on the stairs, he looked up across the entrance hall.

"I think I have a right, Professor," He replied, looking the man in the eyes. He stood, wincing as his left shoe squeaked.

"You above all else, right?" Snape replied bitterly. "Go ahead and cry, Potter, woe is _you_."

Harry shook his head and walked towards his potions professor. Or started to, at least. Then his shoe squeaked. With a glare, he hissed, "_silencio_." He tested the shoe. Nothing. No sound. He smirked.

"Proud though I'm sure you are of your –" Snape sneered "– _unique_ language. I'll have to ask you to speak in English. Merlin forbid us lesser beings can understand you."

Harry rolled his eyes. Without thinking, he replied, "Yah. Proud. That's what I am. I'm so glad Voldemort killed my parents because it means I get to speak to snakes!" He shook his head and turned to walk away.

"Detention, Potter!" He heard from behind him.

"I'm going to have to decline," He replied turning around. There was far too much to do. He had no time to serve detention. _How will detention help me defeat Voldemort next week?_ He wondered.

"You can't decline a detention, Potter."

"Yes I can." Harry's voice took on a very reasonable tone. His entire body was relaxed, making him look not the least bit threatening. His eyes looked pleasant enough and his hands were clasped gently behind his back. "There's far too much to do, Professor. With Voldemort approaching, and my imminent death just around the corner, I have no time for detention. The entire world is depending on me, you know. And with you exposed as a spy, we have to work that much harder. And with my imminent death just around the corner, the Order especially needs me. And, let's face it; Dumbledore is far too senile to run an organized war. Making him follow my idea's, while letting him think they're his, is incredibly tiring. And with my imminent death just around the corner, the DA needs as much training as I can give them. They're only students, you know, and many of them have never fought anyone, except each other, in their lives. So you see, with my imminent death just around the corner, I have no time for detention. You understand." He smiled up at Snape's stunned face.

Placing his hand on his professor's arm, he leaned in and lowered his voice. "Just between you and me, Luna Lovegood rarely serves detention. She'd be more than happy to take my place." He patted Snape gently on the arm and stepped back.

"Potter," Snape paused. Then he shook his head and grasped Harry by he shoulders. "Harry, your 'imminent death' is not just around the corner. You _will_ live through this war. Our battle plans are flawless, thanks to you, including the part where you kill Voldemort."

"To kill Voldemort, I need to die. We all know this. Some – Severus – just don't want to accept it." Harry smiled again. "I forgive you." Then he stepped away from the black haired man and returned to his common room.

If anyone had asked him the next day how he got to bed again, he wouldn't be able to tell them. If they had asked what he had learned in his classes over the next few days, he wouldn't be able to tell them.

But most frightening of all was hat if they had asked him, on the day of the final battle, what the plan was to defeat Voldemort, he wouldn't be able to tell them.

But he wasn't about to let them know that.

"You ready for this, Harry?" Ron asked softly the day of the battle.

The Death Eaters were gathered outside the wards, unable to enter. The younger students were hidden in the Room of Requirement. Any student from fifth year and above was crowded in the Entrance hall. The teachers, members of the Order and the aurors were on the grounds. When Dumbledore gave the signal, the wards holding off the Death Eaters would fall and the battle would begin. What happened next, Harry didn't know.

"Harry?" He turned his head. Ron was staring at him expectantly. "Are you ready?"

_No_, he thought. "Yes. Of course," he said. He smiled, trying to look positive. It apparently worked because Ron nodded and turned back to face the doors. They were closed and everything was silent but for the occasional whisper from a student. The majority of the upper years were there, save for most of the Slytherin's. They were on the other side, outside the gates. Their absence was obvious, creating tension in the hall.

"You should give a speech, Harry," Neville said softly. "The students need a pep talk."

Hearing Neville's words, the rest of the group turned to face Harry. He swallowed nervously. _A speech,_ he thought_, awesome…_

"Uhm… So the death eaters? They want you dead." There was an audible inhale.

Hermione glared. "A pep talk, Harry, is supposed to be uplifting."

Harry bit his lip. "Right. So… The death eaters want you dead. And Voldemort –" a visible flinch "– Wants me dead. That being said, you should all know that the teachers and the Order and the Aurors will do their damnedest to stop that from happening. And if you watch each other's backs then you guys can also stop it from happening. You won't die. You might get wounded, but you _will not_ die.

"As for me…" He shrugged. "I'm gonna kill Voldemort." There was a resounding cheer and suddenly, just like that, the air was lighter everyone breathed a little easier. They chattered away, explaining dramatically how they were going to defeat the death eaters. They all grouped together, leaving Harry to himself.

"I'm going to kill Voldemort," he whispered, "But I make no promises for my own life."

The battle had been raging all afternoon and well into the night. Bodies littered Hogwarts grounds. Blood turned the grass brown and the dirt to mud. If the fighters paused, they would notice the stench. The god awful stench of blood, burnt flesh, mud and sweat. Any positive vibes the students had brought onto the field vanished ten second into the battle. The minute the castle doors opened, a jet of green light hit Neville in the chest. He collapsed with a smile on his face. His was the only one.

Now, with countless students out of energy and therefore fumbling with their spell work, collapsing, Harry was out of ideas. For the past hour, Order member and aurors had been giving him an expectant look. There was a part of the plan – an important part – that he didn't know about.

He'd tried going straight for Voldemort but had been blocked off. He had tried spell casting in parsletongue but Dumbledore had shaken his head at him. He'd fought death eaters; he'd pretended to change sides, shocking the dark side and the light. He'd stopped fighting. He'd cast unforgivable's. He'd killed, he'd stunned, he'd wounded. To no avail. Dumbledore gave him a look. He was supposed to do something and he was supposed to do it now.

But _what_?

In anger, he reeled back and punched a death eater. Hard. Cartilage shattered under the force, blood spurting onto Harry's hand. Without pausing, Harry brought up his other hand, grasping a handful of the death eaters hair. With astonishing force, Harry simultaneously brought up his elbow and pulled down on the Death Eaters head. His elbow connected with the mans neck, eliciting a loud _snap_.

Harry stepped back in shock. Looking around, he saw Dumbledore's satisfied smirk. Many of his other professors wore the same expression.

_Where did I learn that?_ Harry wondered as he instinctively hip kicked the nearest death eater. She screamed as her femur broke, sending her to the ground. Harry preformed similar attacks on many more death eaters within the next couple minutes. Next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a circle of death eaters. Some dead, most moaning in pain, all incapacitated. Harry laughed nervously before continuing his ruthless attack.

All too soon, however, Dumbledore was giving him _that look_ again.

_What am I missing?_ He screamed silently at the old man. Suddenly terrified, Harry began to wonder what he'd missed during the last week and a half. On top of that, he had to wonder what possessed him to keep his memory loss a secret.

As Harry ducked behind a tree to catch his breath, he noticed how cold it was. I was the middle of July and yet he could see his breath? He peeked carefully out at the battlefield. It was steaming. The heat of the blood and the chill of the air steaming up the grounds. He wondered how he hadn't noticed it before.

He took a deep breath, ready to plunge back into the heat of battle, when he was suddenly overcome by an onslaught of dizziness. His head swam and colors blurred together. He tried to focus his eyes alternately blinking quickly and squinting. For no reason he could tell, he gasped suddenly out of breath. Before he passed out, he managed to hiss out a spell, surrounding himself with impenetrable wards.

If he'd been lucid he would've wondered how he'd known to cast the spell. Then he would've wondered how he knew to cast in parsletongue. Then he would've wondered how he knew to cast the spell at all.

_There were bubbles; lots of them. And he was drowning, arms reaching for the surface of whatever body of water he was dying in. Sunlight streamed in, breaking up the wall of blue water and white bubbles with rays of green light__. The beauty didn't stop the fear, though. His arms still reached up, fingers flexing; trying to grasp and something – anything – to get him out of his watery grave. _

_Suddenly his feet hit something solid. He gained his balance and the water came crashing down around him. If he wasn't already soaked, he would be now._

He opened his eyes to find himself standing. Directly in front of him was the lake. Behind him, roughly ten feet away was Voldemort. Behind him was a glimmering blue – green wall. Behind that was the battle, on hold because of the show down that was about to take place.

Harry looked around, trying to get his bearings. His glasses were still on his face. His wand was still in his hand. His clothes were dirty. Hid Red jumper turned brown, his grey trousers now black. The ground he stood on was relatively clear of blood, muddy only because of the lake. Voldemort was sneering, holding his wand tightly. He was also shaking, whether from fear, anger, power or a lack of strength, Harry didn't know.

Harry nodded, not quite sure why, and said, "So, Voldemort, this is it." Then he mentally smacked himself. _This is it?! You have a show down with a murderer and you open with that? _

"Harry Potter," Voldemort's silky voice wrapped around him, stroking him in much the same way a black widow does before she strikes. "You will not live past tonight."

"I'm okay with that," Harry said reasonably, "because neither will you." He shrugged and took a step forward.

"You will die for a world that alienates you for the slightest mistake?" Voldemort took a step forward.

"No. I will die for a world that bands together against anything that threatens it." Harry took another step forward.

"I could give you glory, Harry." Another step.

"You already have," Harry tapped his scar, "And I didn't even have to join you." Another step.

Voldemort growled deep in his throat. "You will die, Potter. You will die by my hand, knowing that it was all for _nothing_."

Harry just took a step forward and said, "You know what, _Tom_, I wouldn't die for them," He motioned with his head to the group outside the barrier, "But I would die for me." With that he raised his wand. Distracting Voldemort was easy; all he had to do was make some ridiculous hand gesture with his wand hand.

Finally frustrated, the Dark Lord opened his mouth to growl out a spell. Before he could speak, Harry let his left hand fly, landing a smooth left hook across the man's face. Blood and spittle flew and Voldemort fell to the ground. Not pausing, Harry let his momentum take him to the ground, landing with one knee on Voldemort's neck and the other on the wrist of his wand hand. He placed his other hand on the man's other wrist, effectively pinning him.

"I'm okay with dying, Tom, because I know I'm taking you with me." Harry nodded with finality before hissing one more spell.

A flash of green light shot out of his wand where it was lying three feet away, hitting Voldemort straight in the head. The light passed visibly throughout his whole body before passing through his wrist into Harry's hand. The force of the spell caused every muscle in his body to tense up before a blast of green light sent him flying through the air. His vice grip in the now dead Dark Lord had them both crashing with a resounding crash through the ice on the lake.

The magical barrier fell as the ice broke and members of both sides rushed to the edge of the lake. The sun reflected off the surface, making the group squint. If they focused, though, they would just barely be able to make out a soft green light, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths.

If Harry had survived, he would have told Dumbledore about his memory loss. There would have been an investigation. They would have discovered a memory potion in his Pumpkin juice, every morning for a week, administered by Neville Longbottom.

If Harry had survived, he would have attended the funerals of Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Snape, Remus, Moody and Kingsley, just to name a few.

He would have helped round up the remaining death eaters, all of whom eventually died via the death curse passed through their dark marks. They all died, but not before claiming the lives of Sirius, Dumbledore, Trelawney and most of the younger students from a magical bomb they had managed to smuggle into the school.

If Harry had survived, he wouldn't have wanted to.

**Author's Note: Uhm. I don't know about that ending. What do you think?**

**PS: This is not Beta'd. I used spell check. That's about it. Do not judge my unedited story too harshly.**


	2. Now Taking Requests!

Hello Reviewers! ((Or lack thereof….)) The wonderful Kamerreon has given me permission to steal her idea. It's going to be good, I promise.

See, what she does is, she writes one shots based on reviews. They give her a pairing and a prompt and she writes it. It's AWESOME! If you haven't read it yet, you should. It's called "If Wishes Were Thestrals" And, I gotta say, everytime I read it, I finish the sentence thinking "A Whole Lot of People Would Be Dead." But that's just me.

Anyway, being the wonderful person that she is, Kam is letting me steal her idea. Except I'm going to change it a little… Instead of giving me a pairing and a prompt, I want you to think up an image and a word. So… For this story, what I saw and thought was Harry struggling underwater and my word was "soul".

So if you have something special you'd like to see, I'd be more than happy to write it up for you. It might be funny, it might be angsty it might be cute it might be smutty. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

Once again, thanks to the WONDERFUL Kamerreon for letting me steal her idea.

So. Whatcha got for me?

-SacredFem


	3. Prompt 1

**Thank you to Kamerreon for allowing me to ste al her idea. This is the first prompt! It makes me smile. I'm so glad to be back in the game. I haven't written anything in a very long time. Send me your prompts and I will write them up. Send them like this: **

**Character(s) in an image and [Word]**

Spacecakeje wants Harry dancing and "Ruby"

Harry couldn't dance. Apparently that was a Potter thing because James couldn't either. Remus told quite the story about James taking Lily to the Valentines Day ball during their seventh year.

"He stepped on her feet so many times that she had bruises the next morning," Remus had said, laughing. Harry had smiled. That sounded like him. Dancing at the Yule Ball had been near impossible. After he nearly fell that first time, he vowed he'd never try again.

Hermione, of course, thought this was ridiculous. "You can't not dance, Harry. When you graduate people will be lining up to invite you to galas and balls and swarays. You can't just stand on the sidelines."

But Harry had been adamant. No way was he going to dance again. Ever. He'd chair dance – and look like a fool doing it – but that was it.

So, of course, when the time came for the Hogwarts Graduation Banquet, Harry wasn't dancing. Not for lack of offers, though. Just his promise. He wasn't going to dance.

"No, Hermione! I knew I wasn't going to dance. That's why I didn't bring a date! Go and dance with Ron. He looks like he's having too much fun without you." Hermione had wheeled around and taken Lavender's place in Ron's arms, making Harry laugh. They really were perfect together.

"Not Dancing, Potter?"

Harry spun around to see Draco leaning against the wall behind him. How long he'd been standing there was anyone's guess.

"Obviously not, Malfoy. What about you? Doesn't your social standing demand you dance tonight?"

Draco came to sit down beside Harry. "I don't think so. As long as I can manage to looked poised and respectful, like a proper pureblood, I can do whatever the hell I want at this party." He looked at Harry and smirked. "But you. I thought you'd be dancing with Weaselette all evening." He motioned with his head to where Ginny was dancing with Seamus.

Harry winced minutely. "No. A world of no. Tried that after the final battle. She ended up hitting me a lot. So no. Seamus can have that honour…"

"So why not dance with your date?" Harry looked over to Draco, surprised he wasn't picking a fight or poking fun. The blonde only looked curious.

Harry shook his head. "I don't dance. Why aren't you dancing with yours?" He glanced over at Pansy Parkinson who was clinging to both Crabbe and Goyle. Both looked confused and excited, if that were possible.

Draco followed Harry's gaze and laughed softly. "Pansy isn't my date. She's barely even my friend. We grew up together and father wanted me to marry someone with more money so I could help the Dark Lord fund his little project –"

"– you mean, eradicating the world of anything to do with muggles?"

Draco laughed outright at that. "Yah, that. Anyway. Once you destroyed the bastard over the summer, I decided to marry whomever the hell I wanted. Father, of course, would have none of it. So I took my rather sizeable trust fund and disinherited myself. I told father that my life was not his to control. He kicked me out of his house and said "You are no son of mine!" So here I am. Single, bored and looking for the right man to spend my life with."

Harry coughed. "Did you just say _man_?" Well that was a new change of events.

Draco only smirked. "Interested, Potter?"

_Yes_, Harry thought. "I'm straight," he said.

Rolling his eyes, Draco stood. "Staight or not, you need to learn how to dance. I'mn going to help you. Come on."

"In front of all these people?" Harry looked terrified. "I can't dance in front of people…"

"You must be bad if you're scared of the fact that you're dancing in front of people instead of the fact that you're dancing with me."

"I'm not dancing."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No."

"Yes."

No!"

"I'll give you a kiss…"

"Fine! Wait… What?"

Draco only laughed and pulled Harry onto the dance floor. Out of sheer, unadulterated shock, everyone moved, forming a circle around the two boys. Then they watched.

After an hour, Harry had stopped stepping on Draco's toes.

After two, he was able to stop staring at his feet.

By the end of the night, much to everyone's delight, he was spinning around the dance floor, leading partner after partner in a dance no one could figure out. His ruby red Gryffindor graduation robes flew around him, turning his unique dance into a work of art.

When he finally got tired out, he wandered over to Draco and smiled. "So where's my kiss, Draco?" He asked with a smirk.

It didn't take long for the two boys to end up in the Head boy's dorm. Gryffindor and Slytherin graduation robes fell to the ground, creating a jewel toned puddle. The boys fell into it and ended up creating a dance of their own.

Only this one was horizontal.


	4. Prompt 2

**Prompt: Character(s) image and [word]**

**Tafta wants Harry making a horcrux and "Elder Wand"**

Hate wasn't a word Harry used lightly. He didn't like the extreme connotations of the word. If you hated something, you never wanted to see it again. You wanted it destroyed.

There wasn't much Harry wanted destroyed. In fact, the only thing on his list was Voldemort.

Voldemort. He-who-must-not-be-named. You-know-who. Mr Hey- you-get-off-of-my-planet. The murderer of Harry's parents and the only man who can claim he _single handedly_ ruined the lives of thousands.

Yah, Harry hated him.

Because of his hate, he was determined to destroy Voldemort.

Unfortunately, during what was supposed to be the final battle, Voldemort had managed to wound Harry and escape with the Elder Wand. But not before removing the piece of soul stuck inside Harry. In doing so, he had stolen a piece of Harry's soul too. Painfully.

After enduring that pain, Harry figured, what's one more? So he researched, a lot, and finally came up with a step by step process to make a horcrux. And it seemed easy enough, in spite of the pain.

So, one night, with his invisibility cloak in one hand and his wand in the other, he cut off a piece of his soul. The pain was blinding. He almost forgot to breathe. HE probably would have if he hadn't needed to keep chanting. Using every last ounce of his concentration, he weaved the piece of soul into the invisibility cloak.

The next day he went to see Ron.

"I need you to look after this for me," He said, giving the red head his cloak. "I have to go away but I want this to be in good hands."

"Won't you –"

"No." Harry smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "With almost everyone I know wounded, dead or dying, I need to know you'll be safe. So you need to stay here. What 'm going to do, I'm going to do on my own."

"Harry… What _are_ you doing?" Ron asked, folding up the cloak.

"I'm going after Voldemort."

"But… Harry, he's got the Elder Wand. You're screwed if he catches you." Ron looked terrified. He clutched at the cloak, pleading with Harry.

"I'll be fine, Ron. Just keep the cloak safe. If all goes well, I'll be back with the elder wand by the end of the month. If my plans go wrong, I'm going to need that cloak." He handed Ron an envelope. "Don't open this unless I'm not back by the end of the month." Ron nodded, still looking terrified. This time, though, he also looked angry. "Good bye, Ron."

{&}

_Ron,_

_My cloak is a horcrux. Sounds ridiculous, I know. But it's true. Voldemort stole a piece of my soul when he took his back. I figured I had to o something but I knew that since he has the Elder wand I'd need a little… insurance._

_So I ripped a piece of my soul out._

_Thank you for looking after it for as long as you did. Since you're reading this I'm probably not back yet and now need your help._

_One of two things could've happened. First, In killing Voldemort, I managed to kill myself but still have the Elder Wand. If this is true, all you should have to do is place the cloak on top of the elder wand. The wand, needing a master, will resurrect me using the piece of soul._

_If I didn't kill Voldemort and get the elder wand, you're going to have to drop the cloak into the potion sitting in the gold cauldron in the room of requirement. It's under a stasis spell so you'll have to cancel that. When getting into the room, just think "horcrux potion" and it should show up. Drop the cloak into the potion. I should come back. If I don't then I'm sorry to say I messed up and have left you to suffer at the hands of a murderer. For that, I apologize in advance._

_Do this for me, Ron, and you can come on the next adventure._

_-Harry_

{&}

Ron sighed and stared down at the thin black wand lying beside Harry's dead body. Licking his lips nervously, he dropped the cloak on top of both of them. It didn't take long for the cloak, the wand and Harry's body to burst into flames. Only seconds later, Harry stood in the center. His eyes had turned black as his hair and his skin was too pale.

Ron dropped to his knees in shock.

The new Harry stepped forward nad grasped Ron's chin forcing him to make eye contact. "Would it be hypocritical of me," he asked, sounding very reasonable, "To start recruiting followers?"


	5. Prompt 3

**Youngsoo wants people cutting hair and "drawing"**

"Why not make it pink?"

"It would look better longer! Shaggy, you know? "

"Can we streak it? Like… red or blonde?"

Harry was tied to a chair. He was also surrounded by what looked like the entire female population. The Gryffindor's, at least.

He'd told Hermione he wanted to change his look. She told him, "You should do something about your hair, first," and then went back to reading his book. Lavender, of course, had heard and then proceeded to tell Ginny who told all her dorm mates. The news that "Harry Potter needs help re styling his hair" spread throughout Gryffindor in about half an hour.

Now he was tied to a chair. Ginny tapped her wand on her bottom lip, staring at his head. Everyone shouted out ideas, most of them making him cringe. Suddenly, Ginny smiled.

"I've got it! Everyone will draw a picture of what they want Harry's hair to look like. Then we'll put them in a pile and vote on them; yes or no. And remember, if you make Harry look like a fool, he won't talk to you again. Alright? Go!"

There was a flurry of activity as everyone pulled out parchment and quills and wands. Most stared at Harry for a few seconds before looking down at their parchment. A second year that hadn't looked at Harry since she got into the room, turned her back and began sketching. Sparks flew from her wand, lighting up her paper. Was that a butterfly?

Half an hour later, still tied to a chair, Harry watched as they began voting. All pieces of parchment stated in one big pile. As people voted, they were sorted into the yes pile or the no pile. Then the subsequent yeses were voted on in the same was until there was only one left.

The first one was a solid no. His hair was gelled up into liberty spikes, dyed green. The next one was nixed because they wanted to grow out his hair to unflattering lengths. The next few were yeses. Two more entered the no pile. Another yes. Another no.

Harry closed his eyes and dozed while they sorted through the entries. He was woken suddenly by a shriek of laughter. His eyes snapped open and he looked at the piece of parchment.

Was that… a sheep? Or maybe Crookshanks on a bad day?

The little second year that hadn't looked at Harry since the process started stood. "Picture this…" Her voice was high pitched and… rather unfortunate, actually… "Harry Potter in…" She paused again. Probably for dramatic effect. "An afro!" There was silence while she looked expectantly at the crowd. As one, like they'd practiced, all the girls shouted, "No!"

The second year huffed and stamped her foot, leaving.

The next entry showed Harry with Hair like Snape. Then there was one turning him into Malfoy. Then Ron. Then Hermione.

Harry yawned again and closed his eyes. This was taking too long.

Harry was once again woken by shrieking. This time, though, it was also accompanied by clapping.

"You chose one, have you?" Harry asked Ginny. She smiled and nodded.

"Who was the creator of the winning entry?" Ginny asked loudly. Lavender raised her hand. Harry was horrified.

And still tied to a chair.

"Shit…" He whimpered as Lavender approached, wand in hand

((()))

Harry was late for breakfast the next morning. His new hair was styled to perfection via Lavender. He'd waited until the last possible second to go to breakfast, hoping everyone would be gone by then.

When he opened the doors, every student and staff member turned to look at him. He flushed to the roots of what was left of his hair.

"Uhm…" He cleared his throat. "Hi…" As chatter broke out around the hall, Harry made his way to his seat.

Up at the head table, Dumbledore leaned over to a stunned professor Snape. "Harry looks rather dashing with a Mohawk, doesn't he?"


	6. Prompt 4

**Sumlind wants Severus Snape with pink pigtails and "Drunk"**

"So, what's the winner get?"

"The satisfaction of knowing they made Snivellus look like a fool."

"And probably a beating…"

"Lily, you're not helping."

Remus nailed James with a hard glare as Lilly huffed and stormed off.

"What? She wasn't!"

"I am well aware of that, Jamie, butyou've only just won her affections. Calling her useless is not going to help your case."

James rolled his eyes. "She can't resist me. I'll go apologise later and everything will be all better."

Sirius laughed. "Good luck, Jamie. Seriously, though, what does the winner get?"

James shrugged. "I dunno. It's a prank. We don't usually get prizes for pranks."

"But it's a prank _bet_. There has to be a prize if it's a bet."

"Fine," James bit his lip and pondered for a second. "Got it. Loser buys the winner a new broom servicing kit."

Sirius laughed. "Done! You had better get your galleon's ready Jamie; I'm totally going to win this!"

Peter raised his hand slightly, looking, as always, nervous. "What's the bet?"

"We're trying to see who can make Snivellus look more like a fool; me? Or James." Sirius replied. Peter nodded, still looking confused. Sirius just shook his head and patted the pudgy boy on the head. "You'll understand when you're older," he said.

James rubbed his hands together. "Let the games begin!"

The next evening, James stormed into the sixth year boys dorm angry and wet.

Guffawing, Sirius managed to ask, "What happened to you?"

"The Squid pulled me into the lake."

"Instead of…."

"I was trying to get it to pull Snape in." Without saying another word, James ripped off his shirt and stormed into the bathroom amidst the howls of laughter from his dorm mates. Littered across his back were bright red circles, courtesy of the suctions on the squids tentacles.

The following day, during lunch, James, Peter and Remus were sitting at the Gryffindor house table. James was just about to ask where Sirius was when the doors slammed open. There was silence as everyone stared openly at Sirius. Clearing his throat, he took a step forward. At that small movement, the silence broke and the hall was filled with raucous laughter.

"What were you trying to do?" James asked breathlessly.

"Turn him purple…" Sirius muttered with a scowl, trying to rub away the bright orange spots marring his otherwise perfect skin. A lock of purple hair fell into his eyes and he brushed it away angrily.

"So… does this means no one won?" Peter asked timidly.

The next morning, Severus was late for potions class. When he finally walked in, the class, Slughorn included, burst into laughter. Snape flinched and raised a hand to his forehead.

"Bloody hangovers…" James heard him mutter as he walked to his seat. "Bloody Lupin with his bloody whiskey." With a huff, he raised a hand, running it through his new hot pink hair. The longest strands had been pulled up into pigtails, fastened with bright yellow bows.

Stunned, James and Sirius looked to Remus who only shrugged and said, "I'd like the newest copy of "Hogwarts; A History" instead of a broom servicing kit, please."


	7. Prompt 5

**Cally wants "Baby's first look/breath"**

Ginny was screaming. Loudly. That's all Harry registered as he held her hand in the hospital room. Doctors and nurses were shouting medical instruction to her and each other over the din but Harry heard nothing. He was too focused on the past. He only knew that their current plan might turn out to be a terrible one.

"_Harry, are you sure about this?" Dumbledore looked seriously at Harry over his half moon spectacles._

_Harry merely nodded. He knew the potential risks of a spell of this magnitude. He knew that the plan could, quite literally, blow up at him, leaving him with nothing. _

_Leaving _him_ nothing. _

"_I know the dangers, sir. I know the repercussions. Ginny has agreed to it and Hermione is going to research absolutely everything she can before Ron and I go through with anything. And, sir, you know Hermione. If there is any flaw, no matter how small, she will find it and it will be addressed."_

_Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "You know I am with you 100 percent, Harry. I will back you in this decision." Harry smiled and the two stood, shaking hands. For the first time in his seven years at Hogwarts, Harry accepted a Lemon Sherbet before leaving the office._

Ginny stopped screaming and lay back against the pillows, panting. There were tears streaming down her face as she looked brokenly at Harry.

Gulping, Harry said, "I'm sorry, Ginny… I shouldn't' have asked you to do this. Is it too much?" Ginny shook her head, though the fear in her eyes told a different story. "What do you need, Gin-bug?" Harry asked brokenly. Ginny's only reply was a short gasp before her face scrunched up again and the screaming restarted.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I'm sorry," Harry whispered over and over again, playing the part of broken record.

"_I can do it, Harry," Ginny insisted. "I know how dangerous this is going to be but I _want_ to do this."_

_Harry shook his head, swiping angrily at the tears in his eyes. "You could die, Gin. Too many people have dies in this war. This isn't just a pregnancy, Ginny. This is a complete transfer of magical energy!"_

"_I heard what Hermione said, Harry. I know the chances of my surviving are one in a million but I want to help you. I know it's right, you know it's right. We have to do this."_

"_We could find someone else to handle it. There are probably many witches out there who would be willing to help 'The Great Harry Potter'. Ginny –"_

"_Harry, stop. You know you don't want some stranger knowing. This is too important to tell anyone who doesn't know the whole back-story."_

As a nurse dabbed Ginny's forehead with a cool sponge, the doctor between her legs gave her calves a quick squeeze. "You're doing great," he said with a smile. "Don't forget to breathe and remember that we're all here for you. We can get you whatever you want, Miss Weasley."

"With all due respect, Dr. Freemond, if you could shut up and get this _thing_ out of me that would be great." Everyone – except Harry – laughed.

Harry gulped. "Hang in there Gin. I know it hurts… I'm so sorry…"

"_What do you expect to achieve, Potter?" Lucius Malfoy sneered, his wand high in the air. "Nothing you do will work! My master is invincible! His next so-called defeat will end only in your demise."_

_Harry sighed, a little disheartened at the turn of events. He had fought his way across the battlefield, hoping to encounter Voldemort so he could, once and for all, put an end to the mad man. Instead he had encountered Voldemort's inner circle. The thirteen death eaters had faced off with him one by one, each promising to best him. Each promised glory for their master, assuring Harry that Voldemort would win the war and Harry would be left to rot in some mass grave._

_Harry had defeated 12 of them, now Lucius was all that was left. "You cannot hope to best me, Potter!" He crowed._

_Harry rolled his eyes and was about to curse Malfoy when the battle field suddenly went silent. Harry looked around in alarm and noticed that everyone, both dark and light, had stopped fighting. They stared openly at the tree line, just above the forbidden forest, where the sickly green smoke of the dark mark was rising into the sky._

"_He's here," Ron whispered, running up beside his best friend. "Are you ready, Harry?"_

"Are you ready, Mr. Potter? The baby is almost here. Breathe, Miss Weasley. Breathe through the pain." Dr. Freemond was looking hopeful as he ordered his nurses to fetch Ginny another blood replenishing potion. "Have pain potions on hand!" He barked out. Nurses were rushing around, alternately yelling out orders and responses and giving Ginny words of advice.

She didn't hear any of it over her screaming.

_Harry trembled at the force of the magic. Across from him, Ron was grimacing. His had was trembling visibly and his eyes danced from the shrieking, glowing form of Voldemort to the terrified face of his sister, standing just a few feet away._

_Voldemort was trapped. With one last push on his magic and one last flip of his wand, Harry finally allowed himself to breathe. Voldemort was screaming, his skin turning to ash, the ash turning to vapour. As the vapour vanished before their eyes, a ball of swirling black and green light burst to life where he had been standing. Ron and Harry made eye contact then glanced at Hermione and nodded. The witch stared hard at harry, pulled out her wand and simply pointed it at her friend._

_Pain exploded from within his chest. He once again het Ron's gaze and focused on keeping the ball of light that used to be Voldemort, in the air. With a sudden ripping sensation, a ball of black and gold light floated out of his chest. Hermione merged the ball with Voldemort's before releasing the spell._

_The two swirling balls of light collided silently before fighting for dominance over the other. When it was finished, they were left with a swirling, angry ball of gold and green light. Breathing deeply, Harry and Ron guided the ball over to Ginny who nodded._

_The last thing Harry could remember was Ginny screaming, loudly, as the ball of light settled into her stomach._

"Would you like to hold your son, Mr. Potter?" Dr. Freemond asked with a smile. Harry nodded, breathless. The small boy had a dark tuft of hair on the top of his head. His nose was small, his eyes closed and almond shaped.

"Hey there, Tom," He whispered softly. As though hearing him, the baby's eye's snapped open, making Harry gasp.

Staring up at him, from the face of a new born baby was one emerald green eye…

… And one striking red one.


End file.
